


Outside the Lines

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though she just considers him a friend, Arthur has been in love with Gwen practically since meeting her through Merlin, but an impromptu gift sparks changes for all of their lives that none of them could have ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside the Lines

Hundreds of feet had trampled the field, leaving packed ruts for new browsers to avoid as they wandered up and down the rows of vehicles. A Saturday boot sale was not Arthur’s idea of a good time, but he had been the one to agree to drive, as well as insisted when reports warned of morning storms.

“What if it starts tipping down?” Gwen had asked on her front step, frowning up at the sullen sky.

“That’s what the brolly’s for.”

Merlin held his tongue. Wise man. The last thing Arthur wanted was for Gwen to suss out he only subjected himself to the sales for her sake.

They walked a few yards behind, presumably not to distract Gwen from finding her treasures, but really because it allowed Arthur to watch her to his heart’s content. He had met her three years earlier when he and Merlin had been thrown together in a political history course at uni. Since Merlin and Gwen were a package deal, friends since childhood, Arthur became her friend, too. She wasn’t in school, though. She’d opted to try and make a living off her handcrafted silver jewelry, and for the most part, she did. When bills got tight, she took odd jobs from their wide circle of friends until she was caught up.

In all his sheltered, public school upbringing, Arthur had never known anyone like her. She fascinated him more than any woman he had ever met.

And yet, as far as she was concerned, he was just another friend.

The boot sales gave Gwen both inspiration and materials to work with, without breaking her meager bank account. When she stopped to look at some vintage jewelry, he and Merlin did, too.

“What do you think?”

Gwen had a large pendant draped over her arm to display its thick chain. Merlin wrinkled his nose.

“Awful.”

“He’s asking pennies for it.”

“Because it’s awful.”

With a sigh, she turned back to the table and set it back down. Arthur slapped Merlin in the arm with a scowl, ignoring his petulant grimace to step up to Gwen’s side.

“There must be something else here that you like.” Scanning the table, he immediately settled on a silver cuff, thick and slightly tarnished, with a filigree edging and small red stones in a curved design at its center. When he picked it up, the metal was warm, almost hot to the touch, but the heat was seductive rather than off-putting. “What about this?”

Gwen tilted her head to better look at the piece. Strands of her hair tickled across his arm, and his head filled with the delicate scent of her perfume. “It’s beautiful, but I could never melt it down or rework it. It’s better the way it is.”

“So don’t. Just keep it for yourself.”

“Oh, no. It’s much too expensive.”

He glanced at the small tag hanging from the filigree. ₤25. A lot more than Gwen usually paid for pieces, but hardly prohibitive. “So I’ll buy it for you.”

Behind them, Merlin suddenly had a coughing fit. Gwen frowned at him for a moment before shaking her head at Arthur. “I can’t.”

“Just see what it looks like on.” Before she could say no, he grasped her hand and pulled her arm straight to slip the cuff onto her slim wrist. Next to her dusky skin, the silver seemed to take on a fresh bloom, gleaming like it was new. Even the red stones deepened in hue.

Her soft sigh was almost a caress. A smile curved her lips as she traced the scalloped edge. “It’s gorgeous.”

“We’re getting it.” He had his wallet out and the notes in hand before she could protest, passing them over to the grizzled man behind the table.

“Arthur—”

“It’s done.” 

Her eyes searched his, so he held still and let her look to her heart’s content. Would she see how much he cared for her? Would it frighten her away, or maybe, would she understand his feelings because she might feel a measure of the same?

“Why?”

He shivered at the gentleness of her tone. This was it. This was his chance to come clean and tell her everything. Her frown was back, and he could choose to kiss away the tension in her mouth, but that required more bravery than he could muster beyond the nerve it had taken to buy her such a personal gift. 

He took a deep breath. “Because you spend all your energy making beautiful things for others. How often do you get to have something for yourself? I can afford it, so why not let me do this for you, Gwen?”

She clearly wanted to argue some more, but her eyes dropped to her wrist again, her fingers resuming their hypnotic stroking. “It’s too generous, but…thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

“You’re—” His breath caught as she stretched to brush a kiss across his cheek. He was frozen in place when she turned around and headed farther down the line of tables.

Merlin came up to his side. “Idiot,” he muttered.

Merlin’s assessment pulled Arthur out of his fugue. “What? She loved it.”

“You should’ve told her.”

He didn’t need Merlin to tell him the obvious. “It’s better this way.”

“For who?”

Good question. “Oh, shut it.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Don’t.”

His eyes were drawn to where Gwen had stopped at another display, a figure of such unconscious beauty he sometimes felt like he couldn’t breathe for the sight of her. It _had_ been the ideal opportunity, and he’d blown it.

Merlin sighed. “Idiot.”

* * *

Shutting the door behind her, Gwen leaned against the heavy wood and closed her eyes. She adored the boot sale runs with Arthur and Merlin, but more and more, they were harder to take, especially when Arthur pulled another of his too-generous stunts. He was always paying for things, from meals to petrol to small gifts. The money meant nothing to him—he’d never had to worry about paying his bills or buying groceries—but when the present ended up being something as beautiful and intimate as the bracelet, Gwen feared he’d see what they really did to her.

They were friends. Good friends. Each one of them would do anything for any of the others. But where she saw Merlin as a surrogate brother, Arthur was different. He was the golden boy, too good-looking for his own good, oddly aloof and companionable all at the same time. He hadn’t known what to do with her when Merlin first introduced them, and it had amused her to introduce him to her way of life. To the working class pubs and the artisan fairs, the whimsical underground galleries and the cafes with questionable sanitation practices. He’d teased her a little, but all in all, been such a good sport about her motley lifestyle, she’d fallen a little in love with him.

But it was the scorching attraction he held that really did her in.

Her hand went to the cuff she still wore, replaying the moments when he’d put it on her. He didn’t always have such an uncanny eye for picking out what she liked, but the magic of this particular gift erased all previous misfires. Something about it had called to her, but its price tag had put her off. Then Arthur had swooped in. So typical of him. She’d been so overwhelmed by the bracelet—by _him_ —she’d impulsively kissed him.

Her lips burned from the memory, as much as the cuff did against her arm. She would do nothing to erase either sensation any time soon. She’d been foolhardy, yes, but sometimes the risk was worth it. She’d have fuel for fantasies for months now.

With a sigh, she pushed away from the door and dropped her small bag of goodies onto the couch. She’d planned to spend the rest of the day working, but nothing from her stash was inspiring her as much as the cuff was. She would never deface or mar it. Instead, she had the urge to dig out her sketchpad and draw for a while. Though she wasn’t nearly as good with pencils and paint as she was with metalwork, it filled a need for her that her jewelry couldn’t always satisfy. Today felt like one of those days.

* * *

“Huh.”

Arthur glanced away from the telly to see Merlin standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his phone in his hand. “What?”

“Gwen’s not picking up.”

“Maybe she’s in the loo.”

“I tried three times.”

“So maybe she ran out to the shops.”

Merlin arched a brow. “This is Gwen. Plus, we had plans. It’s not like her to forget.”

Arthur scooped up his phone from the coffee table. “Let me try.”

“Your phone works the same as mine.”

“Yes, but she’ll see it’s from me and not have to pretend she’d rather get a root canal than pick up.” Grinning, he ducked to avoid Merlin’s phone hurtling through the air toward his head, but inwardly, he was worried. Merlin was right. Gwen wasn’t the type to blow off a meeting without at least letting them know she wouldn’t be there. But as he listened to the rings on the other end of the line drone on, he realized that this time, she had.

Merlin flopped down on the couch next to him and snatched up the remote. “Her loss, I guess.”

Arthur was slower to set down his phone. “You don’t think we should go check on her?”

“And have her laugh at us for acting like a couple of girls? Nah. Her battery’s probably dead, or she’s got it on mute, or something daft like that. She’ll show up here any minute. You’ll see.”

He let it go, because Merlin was letting it go, but as they bickered over what to watch, a vague sense of unease settled in Arthur’s gut.

Five hours later, when Gwen had still not shown up and a final call put them through to her voicemail again, it was a solid lump.

* * *

Her eyes burned. Watery sunlight trickled in through the nets, but even that made her squint as she tossed the sketchpad down and stretched. Something in her neck cracked. What time was it? She had no idea. Morning by the looks of it. She wasn’t sure where the night had gone at all.

Gwen rubbed at the crustiness at the inside corners of her eyelids. She needed tea. Scalding hot to wake her up and help her get past the fact that she’d somehow failed to get to bed. She had things to do, people to—

_Merlin and Arthur!_

Scrambling up, she searched frantically for her phone. The early morning hour it displayed mocked her, but worse was the numerous missed calls from both men. She called Merlin first, but when it went to voicemail, she babbled her apology to it instead.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me last night. I was working on something, and I swear, I didn’t even hear the phone ring. Stupid bloody thing. I knew I should’ve got the new one when I had the extra money last month. But I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Both of you. Call me.” She started to disconnect, but decided to add one more, “Sorry!”

Arthur was next, but his didn’t even ring. She left the same message, though a little more composed because she didn’t need him to think she was an even bigger flake than she was. When she was done, she tossed it aside and buried her face in the couch cushion.

“Bugger.”

Adrenaline had done more to wake her up than tea ever would. Rising, she stuffed her phone into her pocket, just in case either of them called back. She wouldn’t miss them again. Her pad sat discarded on the floor, but when she picked it up, her eye was drawn to the dark lines she’d scribbled over night. 

The pad was full. Each page held a similar drawing, the back of a woman’s head. It was tilted to the side, almost in anticipation of exposing her profile, but the clumsy shadings did little justice to how Gwen imagined her hair would be. It should’ve been rich and lustrous. Under Gwen’s hand, it felt sparse and sallow. Each sketch was the same, devoid of passion, of life.

What a waste. She could’ve spent the evening with the two people in the world who meant the most to her. All she had to show for it were poorly rendered drawings of a woman that was more ephemeral than real.

She’d take a shower, then head over to Merlin’s. If he wasn’t home, she’d use her key to get in and clean the flat from top to bottom as a surprise. She could even throw something together for dinner to make it up to him.

Her mind made up, she dropped the pad in the rubbish and marched to the bathroom. She began peeling off her clothes along the way, but when her fingers slid over the warm silver cuff, a small shock shivered through her.

Gwen faltered.

She glanced back at the bin.

Giving up on it now would be a waste of an entire night. She wouldn’t have worked so diligently if it wasn’t for a purpose. Merlin would accept her apology as it was, and Arthur already found her entire artistic process amusing.

One more attempt couldn’t do any harm.

She had to rummage around for another sketchpad. When she curled up in the corner of her favorite chair again, however, the blank page stared up at her. Her pencil rested awkwardly in her hand, too, like it didn’t fit, like she didn’t understand how to work it. Frowning, she rolled it between her fingers, testing its weight. It slipped free, and she snatched to grab it with her other hand before it fell to the ground.

Her hesitation disappeared. The dull tip of her pencil flew in swift, sure curves across the paper. The strokes felt different, but she dismissed that as drawing with her non-dominant hand.

It never occurred to her until much, much later that the weight of the cuff on that arm might have added to it, too.

* * *

A day stuck in some of the driest, dullest meetings he’d ever been forced to sit through prevented Merlin from checking his messages until he was packing up to head home. The first he noticed was Gwen, and her rambling, almost skittish apology had him smiling before he’d finished logging off his laptop.

The subsequent calls from Arthur, however, weren’t quite as engaging.

“Did you hear from Gwen? Did she sound odd to you?”

“Where are you? You never have your phone off this long.”

“Gwen’s not picking up again. Let’s go buy her a new phone and take it over tonight.”

“If you’re not answering because you don’t want to pay for the thing, just say so.”

The latest had been left half an hour earlier. Merlin dialed Arthur’s number as he tucked his laptop into its case.

“A bit impatient, are we?”

Arthur sighed. “Did you hear the way she sounded?”

“She sounded the way she always does.”

“She was talking like that squirrel from _Hoodwinked_.”

He chuckled. “It wasn’t as bad as all that. She was flustered, that’s all.”

“What about the fact that she hasn’t returned any of my calls today?”

“Her phone’s obviously broken. Have you picked up a new one yet?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll run into a Vodafone and meet you there.”

Arthur disconnected before Merlin could tell him he was only joking. For Arthur, though, it was serious business. How Gwen hadn’t figured out his feelings for her by now, Merlin had no idea.

An hour later, he rounded the corner of Gwen’s street. Arthur sat on her front step, a Vodafone carrier bag dangling from his fingers. At the sight of Merlin, he hopped up.

“She’s not answering the door.”

The glib response he would’ve given died at the look on Arthur’s face. The last time Arthur had seemed this worried was when Gwen had to go to A&E with a nasty burn from her soldering iron. He’d ignored everyone’s assurances that she would be fine, and then scolded her mercilessly to be more careful.

“You couldn’t have called me to save me the trip?”

Arthur shuffled back and forth on his feet. “I was hoping you’d use her spare key to let us in.”

“Gwen would kill us.”

“Then she should’ve answered one of our calls.”

“She’s probably at the store.”

“We won’t stick around.” He rattled the bag. “We’ll put the phone somewhere she won’t miss it, write a note telling her to use it, then leave.”

Merlin didn’t believe for a second that Arthur would let it go at that, but he also knew Arthur wouldn’t budge from her step if Merlin didn’t agree to this plan. Gwen would be annoyed they’d used her key for such a frivolous reason, especially without her prior knowledge, but they’d find some way to smooth her ruffled feathers. She could never stay mad at either one of them for long.

“Promise me we’re out of there as soon as we write the note.”

Arthur brightened at the prospect of getting his way. “Absolutely.”

Though Arthur allowed Merlin to approach first, he still crowded close, nudging with the bag, a foot, an elbow, as Merlin wiggled the key in the sticky lock. The bolt finally gave, and Arthur reached past him to flat-hand the door open. He fairly knocked Merlin out of his way to be the first to enter.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Until Arthur’s “Gwen!” jolted him to the same haste.

The scene that greeted him turned his blood to ice. Drawing paper was strewn everywhere, on the floor, on the furniture, even peeking out from under the couch. From what he could tell at a quick glance, each pencil sketch was almost identical to the next—a woman’s head and shoulders as they would appear from the back.

But then he looked closer. They _were_ different. Because little by little, page by page, the woman was turning around.

When Gwen had run out of paper, she’d moved to the magnolia walls. Bold strokes revealed a stunning profile, full lips smeared with a surprising scarlet hue, a fine nose tilted like a coquette’s. Each became sharper, more realistic, climbing around and behind obstacles until they reached the doorframe of the kitchen. By that point, he could almost meet the woman’s eyes. More color had been added as they were revealed, a glittering, seductive green. 

They drew him across the gap, ready to drink in the next portrait. A couple sweeps of black hinted where it had originated, but there it ended. The wall seemed to have melted. Reds and blacks and greens and golds had bled down its surface, pooling into a sludge at the baseboards. It still looked wet.

And crumpled on the floor in front of it was Gwen.

Arthur cradled her in his arms, pushing her hair away from her face. Her skin was ashen, and she wore the same clothes from their boot sale run. Pencil dust mottled the front of her shirt, while her fingertips were stained from the various paints she’d used on the walls.

“Call 999.” Arthur’s anxious voice brooked no argument, though this time, Merlin whole-heartedly agreed with him. “She’s burning up.”

As Merlin made the call, Arthur rocked her back and forth, murmuring the entire time. If Gwen came out of this all right— _when_ , he hastily corrected, _when_ she came out of it—he didn’t think Arthur would be able to go back pretending he didn’t have stronger feelings for her.

Merlin snapped his phone shut and crouched down on Gwen’s other side. “How’s her pulse?”

“Too fast.” He lifted his bleak gaze. “What the hell happened here?”

He looked as helpless as Merlin felt. “I have no idea.”

“Did Gwen do all this?”

“She must’ve.”

“But she hates drawing. She’s always complained it’s too limiting.”

He wondered how Gwen would react if she knew how well Arthur really understood her. There was no time to respond, though. Gwen stirred in Arthur’s arms.

“Gwen?” Arthur cupped her cheek, steadying her neck. “Come on, luv. Talk to me.”

She moaned. The muscles at the corners of her mouth pinched. Her lips were dry and cracked.

“Gwen?” Merlin tried. “An ambulance is on its way.” If she was cognizant at all, she’d protest. She hated being a burden.

No more sounds. They held their breath, waiting.

Arthur was the first to break the silence. “How are we going to explain what happened?”

“We don’t. We can’t.”

“But—”

Gwen moaned again. Her lashes fluttered. When they opened, Merlin forgot about the portraits and the explanations and the paint bleeding down the wall.

Instead of their usual warm brown, Gwen’s eyes glimmered gold.

Her lips moved, but the words she uttered were too low to be clear. Both men leaned in.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

She swiped her tongue over her lower lip and tried again. “Morgana. She’s back.”

* * *

Arthur paced back and forth in front of the locked doors that led into the heart of A&E. It was as close to Gwen as they’d allow him. So what if he wasn’t family? All she had was her troublemaking brother who couldn’t last more than a few months at a single address without being forced to move on. Arthur and Merlin were all she had. The doctors should have taken that into consideration, but no, here he was, stuck in the waiting room with a gaggle of people annoying him more and more by the minute. He couldn’t even bribe his way past the admitting nurse to sneak into the back and find Gwen on his own.

“Is that actually doing any good?” Merlin commented with a tip of a brow.

Arthur glared at him without stopping. “They have to open that door sooner or later.”

“When Gwen’s ready.”

“She needs us.”

“Unless you picked up a medical degree I don’t know about, she needs the doctors more.”

Arthur grunted in frustration and pivoted to pace away from him. Merlin hadn’t budged from the neon-orange plastic seat he’d taken at their arrival, except to run once to the loo. Arthur envied his calm. He could always be counted on in a crisis, whereas Arthur was better at forging ahead. Chained back like this drove him mad, even when he knew it was necessary.

“What do you know about this Morgana she mentioned?” Neither one of them had brought up the subject of Gwen’s brief episode before she’d passed out again. Arthur’s focus had been on Gwen, not some unknown woman. “Is she an old friend or something?”

Merlin shook his head. “First I’ve ever heard of her.”

The way he said it, though…carefully nonchalant, a glance away from Arthur at the last second. Arthur wanted to press, but something told him he’d hit a wall head-on if he did.

But there was more than one way to get past an obstacle.

“I wonder if she’s the woman in all the pictures. That didn’t look like anybody I’ve seen Gwen hanging around with.”

“I don’t know. Could be.”

“She could’ve hired Gwen.”

“To draw her portrait on Gwen’s wall?” Merlin grimaced. “That’s a ridiculous theory.”

“Do you have a better one?”

He paused. Too long. Arthur barely managed not to pounce on it. “Not really.”

“Well, whoever she is, she’s stunning.”

“You think so?”

His back had been to Merlin for his surprised question, but he turned in time to see the flash of emotion that flickered across Merlin’s face before he donned his mask again. An odd mixture. Anger. Frustration. A little bit of lust. An even smaller dose of pity. Proof enough for Arthur to know something was going on there, something Merlin didn’t want to share.

Oddly, that hurt. As much as his fear for Gwen.

“Don’t you?” he countered. He folded his arms over his chest and squared off with Merlin, daring him to continue the half-truths to his face.

Merlin shrugged. “I guess. I was too worried about what might’ve happened to give it much notice.”

So had Arthur, but he didn’t miss the passive-aggressive stab at his conscience. “Has Gwen ever done anything like that before?”

“She’s always drawn.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“But she’s done the series work, too. Remember the bathing nudes she did for that collector in Uxbridge?”

He did, all too well. She’d created six sculptures in total, of a woman in a bath from infancy to old age. She’d used her own body as a model for two of them. Arthur had hated the collector for having access to even a faulty representation of Gwen’s bare body when he wanted it all for himself.

“It’s probably just some new job she got,” Merlin continued. “She didn’t have time to tell us about it, and she got so wrapped up in what she was doing that she lost track of time.”

“Why would she paint her walls? Only nutters do that.”

As soon as the words came out, he regretted them. Gwen wasn’t nuts, but something was clearly going on with her. A fever that had her hallucinating? Had somebody visited and slipped her some drugs? Those were the only logical explanations, especially in light of this Morgana she claimed was back.

Perhaps Morgana wasn’t the woman in the picture, but the woman responsible for Gwen’s strange actions. She could’ve been the one to spike her drink or food. That would explain it all.

“I’m sure the doctors will be able to tell us what’s going on,” Merlin said.

Arthur cast a dark glance back at the doors. “If they ever decide to come out of there.”

It took another fifty minutes for that to happen, almost an hour of more pacing and more arguing and no more answers and Arthur well and truly thought he was going to explode by the time the door swung open and a nurse beckoned them to follow her. He leapt forward, crowding behind her as Merlin double-timed to get to his side. He almost knocked her over when she led them to a small room.

Gwen was on the lone bed, an IV hooked up to her arm. Another monitor beeped in time to her heart, its wire disappearing beneath the hospital gown she wore. Her eyes were shut when they walked in but as they came around the curtain and stood next to the bed, they fluttered open.

Their usual brown. A knot in Arthur’s stomach eased.

“How do you feel?” he asked before she could speak.

Her nose scrunched up into the cutest moue. “More than a little foolish.”

“Don’t. You should’ve rung as soon as you thought something was wrong.”

“That’s just it. I…” Her gaze flickered to Merlin, the final protest dying on her tongue. Arthur was accustomed to seeing them exchange some silent understanding—years of friendship did that to people—but the look that passed between them was different than anything he’d seen before. More, if that made any sense. It made it clear he was the odd man out here, and the sudden irrational certainty that Gwen and Merlin had developed feelings for each other that weren’t just friendship reared its ugly head.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Merlin said with a soft smile.

“I’m sorry I worried you. It all seems so silly.”

“It’s not,” Arthur assured. He braved resting his hand on hers, but when he saw the mark on her wrist, he hissed and drew back. “What the hell…?”

Gwen followed his line of sight and grimaced. “Oh. That. It’s from the bracelet you bought. The doctors think I might’ve had an allergic reaction to it.”

_That_ was a burn mark branding her skin exactly where the cuff had been—exact shape, exact contour. The edges were red and enflamed, and the design had been etched into her arm in slivery lines. Gwen didn’t seem to be in pain from it, but they probably had her on pain meds. It looked awful. His arm ached just from the sight of it.

His heart ached even more. Because that meant all of this was his fault. Buying her the bracelet had made her sick, and now she might even have a scar to remind her of the whole ordeal and his thoughtlessness.

_Good work, you idiot._

Merlin pushed past Arthur to pick up her hand and more carefully examine the burn. Gwen laid there patiently, but she watched Merlin with just as much intent. Arthur retreated another step.

“Did they have to cut it off?” Merlin asked.

Gwen shook her head. “It just slipped off. Which is a little funny considering it kept getting stuck when I tried to do it.”

“When did you try?” It was important for Arthur to know. Maybe all the blame didn’t have to be laid at his doorstep. “When you were still at home?”

“I…” Her gaze jumped between them, and the fact that she kept going back to Merlin rather than meet Arthur’s for more than a moment spoke volumes. “I’m not sure.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin said. Giving her a small smile, he gently rested her hand back on top of the blankets. “The good news is that it’s off, if that’s what was causing all the trouble.”

“Arthur…” At the sound of his name on her tongue, his senses heightened, only to be dashed again when she added, “Could you go ask one of the nurses if I could have some water? I’m so thirsty.”

What was he going to do, say no? Even though a blind man could see what Gwen was doing.

So he put on his best smile, agreed to get whatever she needed, and walked out.

He left the door slightly ajar behind him and stood off to the side out of their view. Sure enough, as soon as he was gone, they started.

“Tell me you remember,” Gwen whispered.

“I do. God, I don’t know how, but I do.”

“Does Arthur?”

“I don’t think so. He kept asking me about Morgana in the waiting room.”

“But he bought the bracelet.”

“He bought that because he wanted you to have it. No other reason.”

“Oh, God…” She sounded stricken. “I remember all of it, Merlin. Not just the good times. He’s going to hate me when he finds out.”

“Arthur could never hate you.”

“But I hurt him so badly.”

“That wasn’t you, Gwen. Not really.”

“If it wasn’t us, then why is she back? Why now?”

“I don’t know. Are you sure it was Morgana?”

“You saw the pictures.”

“What made you paint them?”

“I think it was the bracelet. I think…I think it was hers.”

“Did she say anything to you? Anything at all?”

“Not really. She just…smiled down at me, like I was some kind of pet that had done a good trick or something. I thought she was going to pat me on the head for a moment. And then she said thank you and disappeared.”

“She’s here for Arthur.” Merlin sounded grim. “It’s always been about Arthur.”

The back of his eyes throbbed. He knew he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but clearly they weren’t going to talk to him. And why? Who was this woman? Why did Gwen think he could ever hate her? Had something happened between her and Merlin that they’d never told him about?

Except she used the past tense, not the present or future. Like she’d hurt him before in some deep, wrenching way he could never forgive. That was impossible. She never had, and he was hard pressed to think of anything that she could even do now that would turn his feelings for her so sharply.

He almost marched back in to demand some answers, but the near certainty they’d stonewall him again held him in place. Until he had something concrete, he had to rely upon himself to figure it out.

_She’s here for Arthur._

Or this Morgana they were so determined to pretend they didn’t know.

* * *

The last thing she wanted was to stay in hospital overnight, but the doctors were insistent, and she was too tired to argue effectively. Arthur and Merlin promised to return in the morning and hopefully help her escape their medical clutches, so she finally resigned herself to sleeping in a ward that smelled of antiseptic with a nurse coming in every couple hours to check her vitals.

Sleep was difficult. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those portraits, the wall coming to life as Morgana had stepped out of the plaster like one of Michelangelo’s uncompleted statues breaking free of its marble. That was when the memories had started. 

_Standing behind Morgana at her vanity table, brushing through her silken hair in long strokes in preparation for one of Uther’s feasts._

_Standing on the parapet with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, waiting for Arthur to return from battle._

_Standing at Arthur’s side in the throne room, doing everything in her power not to glance toward Lancelot._

Tears pricked her eyes when she thought of how she’d hurt Arthur. She tried to banish thoughts of Lancelot completely, but he was entwined with everything that had happened at Camelot, part of the roots incapable of being excised. He had been the one to learn of that final battle, of Morgana’s plan to ruin Arthur once and for all with the wrath of that druid boy she’d raised. He had been the one to ride off to warn Merlin, leaving Guinevere alone to fear for all the men she loved.

None of them had come back. She’d wept for months after she learned of how they had fallen.

She didn’t want the memories. She liked her life. She wanted to adore Arthur from afar and laugh with Merlin and create her art like she’d always done. That girl who’d fallen in love with her husband’s favored knight…Gwen didn’t know her. She couldn’t fathom splitting her loyalties like that. But now that the knowledge had returned, she couldn’t separate it out, either. Because they had all found each other again, loved each other again. It was real, even though it seemed too ridiculous to be true.

Arthur would despise her when he remembered, too. As well he probably should.

But what purpose did Morgana have coming back? Why uproot everything like this? Simple revenge? Wasn’t killing Arthur the first time enough?

Did she intend on doing it again?

Frantic, Gwen reached for the call button, struggling to sit up against all the tubes and wires. The nurse arrived just as she was getting to a seated position, but instead of ask what she needed, the nurse took Gwen by the shoulders and firmly pushed her back down.

“None of that now,” she chided. “You need some proper rest.”

“I need to go home.”

“Not tonight, you don’t. Doctor’s orders.”

She wasn’t strong enough to overpower the nurse. Getting out wasn’t an option yet. “I need to call someone, then. It’s urgent.”

“It’s the middle of the night, dearie.”

“He won’t mind. Please.” Her mind raced for some lie she could feed the nurse that would allow her the phone call. The only thing she could come up with was, “It’s my dog. He’ll be tearing my flat apart if somebody doesn’t get over there. Please. I just want to call and ask my friend to check on him.”

The nurse seemed unsure, her frown masking her face in shadows. “You can’t use mobiles in here, not with all the equipment.”

“So could I just dial out on the ward phone?” One hung on the wall behind the nurse. The cord could easily reach Gwen’s bed. “It’s not long distance, and I promise I’ll keep it short.”

Though her insides were crawling with anxiety, she kept her voice and features as reasonable as possible. The nurse needed to trust her to be talking sense, even though she was positive that if she told the truth, they’d have her committed.

“Two minutes.” The nurse picked up the receiver and passed it over, her other hand poised over the touchpad. “What’s the number?”

Gwen rattled off Merlin’s mobile. Though she waited for the nurse to leave, the woman didn’t budge an inch. Two minutes was all she was going to get. Supervised, at that.

“Hello?”

His voice was wary, but alert. She hadn’t woken him. Unsurprising considering the events of the day.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Gwen! Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry to be calling so late.” She glanced at the nurse, weighing her next words. “I don’t suppose Arthur’s with you, is he?”

“No, he went home after we left you. We’re going to meet up for breakfast before coming to pick you up.”

“I’m worried about him.”

“Don’t be. He’s probably sleeping.”

“You’re not.”

“That’s because I’m trying to put all this together. Arthur doesn’t remember anything. I tried feeling him out when we left hospital, but he’s still drawing a blank.”

If he didn’t remember anything, he had no defenses against Morgana. She could attack him and he’d never see it coming.

“He can’t be alone right now. You have to go over there.”

“He’ll start asking questions if I just pop around without a reason.”

“So make one up. You have to do this. For me, please, Merlin?”

He sighed. “All right. But I can’t lie to him for much longer. I’ve had enough of that already.”

“Whatever it takes.” The nurse was tapping her foot in impatience. “Look, I have to go. You’ll take care of him?”

“I will. I promise.” He paused. “We love you, you know that, right, Gwen?”

She gripped the receiver until her knuckles hurt. “I know.” At least, until Arthur found out the whole story. “Thank you.”

After she passed the phone back, she collapsed against her pillows and closed her eyes. She’d done all she could for now.

It would have to do.

* * *

Merlin tugged his coat closer around his thin frame as the taxi pulled away from the curb behind him. It cost a bomb to get to Arthur’s via that means, but at this hour, the Underground wasn’t an option. Arthur hadn’t answered his phone when he’d tried calling, either, which didn’t lend hope that this trip would actually be worth it. But Gwen had specifically called to ask him to check on Arthur, and considering what Merlin knew now that he hadn’t before, there was no way he’d blow her off.

Nobody answered the bell when Merlin rang to be let in, so he scrounged around in his pocket for the spare key Arthur had loaned him ages ago. Twenty-four hours ago, having the keys to his two best mates’ flats wouldn’t have seemed odd. Now, Merlin wondered about how fortuitous it was that they’d all somehow managed to find each other again in this lifetime, how paths that should have kept them apart had discovered a way to converge and entwine their lives in ways that had often felt unbreakable. He didn’t think this was the first life he’d led since Camelot, but his memories of the spaces between here and then were spotty at best, like the lens of the camera through which he was viewing was broken and nothing could be focused on.

Perhaps it took all of them together to make it real. If that was the case, the fact that Morgana was back, too, was that much more serious.

He wasn’t afraid of her. Well, strike that. He was a little afraid. She still had her magic, and he…he didn’t know what he had. In the moments when Arthur would leave him alone to his thoughts, he’d tried remembering what it had felt like or how he had done it, but the details evaded him. He’d spent the hours after parting ways with Arthur attempting to do even the smallest of spells.

Nothing worked. Nothing moved by his will. The words he could conjure failed to evince their power.

He hadn’t been able to protect Arthur the first time with full use of his powers. How could he do so now without any powers at all?

Nobody answered when he knocked, but by that point, he’d expected it. Relief washed through him when he pushed the door open and saw the normal plain walls as well as Arthur’s usual untidiness. Everything was the same, no magical portraits to release a sorceress, no dead bodies on the floor as proof she’d paid a visit.

The only thing wrong was the quiet. Arthur wasn’t home.

Growing dread replaced his earlier appeasement. Though Merlin believed Arthur didn’t have the same memories he and Gwen did, he wasn’t so wrapped up in what was going on not to see that Arthur had been acting oddly all night. His concern for Gwen, that was understandable. But he’d been alternately distant and demanding while they waited to see her, only to turn into the model of decorum after he’d come back with the water Gwen had requested. At one point, he’d even left the room to deal with the doctors just so Gwen could have a few more minutes alone with Merlin.

Considering his current absence, Merlin should have been a little more suspicious.

A quick search seemed to confirm his worst fears. Arthur’s bed was made up, his computer was cold, and his car keys were nowhere to be found. He hadn’t come home. Merlin could buy that he might have gone out for a drink or to unwind after everything with Gwen, but pubs would’ve been shut hours ago.

The only other places he might’ve gone were Merlin’s or Gwen’s. But he didn’t have a key for either of them.

His fear deepened. Pulling out his keyring, he flipped through them to count them off.

Gwen’s was missing.

* * *

Nothing. That was what Arthur found. Absolutely zero on whatever kind of past Morgana might have shared with Gwen, who she might have been, what she had to do with the bracelet he’d bought.

All he had were the bloody pictures on the walls, staring at him everywhere he turned.

Arthur sat on the couch, with only the lamp on the end table for light. The central seat gave him an excellent perspective on the range of portraits, from start to what should have been the finish, but while the woman in the drawings evoked different emotions, he had no more idea who she was than when he’d started searching Gwen’s flat. Beautiful, without a doubt. Mesmerizing. Enigmatic. His gut alternately leapt and crawled at the sight of her.

But what she had to do with him, or Merlin, or Gwen…he had no idea.

“Morgana.”

He whispered her name, testing it on his lips. It didn’t feel as awkward as he would have imagined, though he’d never known anybody called that before. He said it again, this time a little louder.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

He’d gone through everybody it might have been. Gwen’s art friends. Girls from uni. Friends of family that Gwen and Merlin wouldn’t even know. No memory he conjured came close to resembling the woman in the portrait, though he could think of a few who might want to have a go at him for youthful indiscretions.

If he’d only found a phone number or some way to contact this Morgana directly. He loathed this kind of game, this skulking about with secrets, whispering behind closed doors. Face things directly, tackle the problem head-on. That’s what he liked.

The irony that he’d been hiding his feelings for Gwen for ages now didn’t escape him. That didn’t count, though. That was more complex than a simple secret. That had the potential of costing him the two most important people in his life. As much as he loved her, he wouldn’t risk losing her for his own selfish needs.

His gaze strayed to the final picture—or what would have been the final picture if Gwen had finished it. What had triggered her to destroy the work like that? Had the phone rung? Had somebody knocked at the door?

The latter was the more likely possibility. Gwen had been hallucinating from whatever she had reacted to in the bracelet, and Morgana had stopped by. How could she have left Gwen in such a state, though? Gwen had clearly been in distress. Anyone with an ounce of human decency would have called 999.

_What would you know of decency, Arthur? What kind of peace did you ever grant me?_

He bolted upright, his head whipping around as he tried to discern where the voice had come from. Shadows danced at the corners of his eyes, but all of them scattered as soon as he tried to focus on them.

Nobody else was in the room.

Of course. 

Arthur slumped and rubbed at his eyes. They still throbbed from the headache that had bloomed at the hospital, and now he was exhausted as well. He was hearing things, a sign that he should pack it in and go home. If Gwen found out he’d gone through her things without permission, she’d be hurt beyond belief. It would take him forever to regain her trust again.

_You’re such a blind fool._

He froze. That voice again. A woman, mocking and cold. He kept himself still, straining to hear anything, anywhere, that might indicate she was in the flat, or outside the door. It sounded too clear to be his tired imagination.

Seconds ticked into a minute. Nothing else called to him. He was losing it.

Was this what had happened to Gwen?

Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he dropped his hand from his face and turned toward the door to leave.

The brilliant light that leapt toward him blinded Arthur even as he dove out of its way.

His shoulder slammed into the wall. Laughter trickled from the background as he tried to shake off the fall, but he still couldn’t see right, spots dancing in front of his eyes to turn the world into a Jackson Pollack painting. He braced his palm flat against the nearest surface to steady himself as he rose, only to have it slide against something sticky.

“Oh, Arthur…” The voice he’d heard, crystal clear and so close it stippled his flesh in goosebumps. “You never did learn when it was time to give up.”

He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the dots. Gradually, forms began to return, starting with the female one standing at the front door. Pale skin, black hair twisted back off her face. He thought he recognized one of Gwen’s blouses, though this slim woman was swimming in it.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” he warned, “but I’m about to call the police.”

“Oh, that’s cute. You think you can actually do something.” She ventured forward and her features sharpened. He wasn’t surprised to recognize the woman from the portrait. “Poor delusional Arthur. I guess some things never change.”

He tried again to stand, with better success this time. When he drew his hand away from the wall, he saw blood smeared across the palm. The same red splashed where he’d hit. His shirt was shredded, and a deep gash bled profusely beneath his ripped sleeve.

“Gwen’s in hospital, you know.” He forced himself to straighten and ignore the sting in the exposed injury. He wasn’t about to give this bitch the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. “Technically, you’re trespassing.”

“Technically, so are you.”

“I have a key.”

“Did she give it to you?”

He paused a moment too long. “Yes.”

She laughed. “You still can’t lie, either. Have you learned nothing since Camelot?”

The air felt like it had been sucked out of his lungs. Longing like he had never known washed through him, images too fast to hold onto flickering across his mind’s eye.

_A citadel, rising tall and proud against the sky._

_Flags of red and gold flapping in the wind as horses charged over stone streets._

_A dragon bowing before him, making him feel small and huge at the same time._

_Merlin at the dragon’s side, his hand resting gently on its neck._

He gasped for breath. Merlin. His Merlin. Older and more weathered, but unmistakable.

“No,” he whispered. It wasn’t possible.

“No?” the woman echoed. “You aren’t actually agreeing with me, are you?”

He lifted his gaze. A half-smile played on her ruby mouth. In the poor light, her eyes looked like they were gold.

Like Gwen’s had been.

“What did you do to Gwen?” he asked.

She shrugged. “What was necessary. Though why you should care after everything she did to you, I’ll never understand.”

“I love her.” For some reason, it was easier to admit to this stranger than to Gwen. That wasn’t right. Even Arthur saw that.

“Oh, please. You say that like you were the only one. I loved her first.” The smile twisted into a cruel smirk. “And Lancelot loved her last.”

He didn’t know who this Lancelot was. He didn’t care. It didn’t change his feelings for Gwen one iota.

“Let’s make this simple, shall we?” She lifted her hand. Sparks danced amongst her fingers, weaving them in gold. “Good bye, Arthur.”

He had nothing to protect himself with. No shield. Nothing to hide behind. His injured arm was tingling and the edges of his vision were going fuzzy.

All he had was instinct.

And the bracelet the doctor had given him when he’d asked for it.

His bloody hand curled around the cool metal in his pocket, his arm lifting to block his face. The force that blasted from Morgana’s palm—because really, who else could it be?—jumped the space between them and hit the silver. Some of it scattered into a rain of tiny flames. The rest of it ricocheted back toward Morgana.

She screamed in fury. The blast looked like it was going to hit her in the chest, but at the last second, she swept her arms into a wide circle. Wind caught the ends of her hair and dress.

Arthur blinked. She was gone.

The metal dug into his skin from how tightly he gripped the cuff, but he couldn’t move or let it go for several minutes after she vanished. He kept waiting for her to come back, like the blond guy at the end of _Die Hard_ , but the entryway remained empty, only the sound of his harsh breathing echoing within the walls. He had no clue what had just happened here. From the way his shoulder was beginning to burn, he didn’t think he wanted to. But he was going to be ready, regardless.

“Arthur!”

Merlin’s shout came as pounding started on the door. A dog barked in response somewhere outside, but the sound of his best friend’s voice was what he needed to finally snap out of his stasis.

He fumbled with the lock for a moment before it gave. The stupid bloody thing always stuck at the worst of times. When he opened the door, he had to grip the edge to keep from passing out.

Merlin swept forward without a pause, his long arm coiling around Arthur’s waist to help support him. “What happened?”

He’d never admit it aloud, but it felt good to have the strength to lean against. “Morgana was here.”

Merlin hesitated. “You saw her?”

He cocked a brow. “So now you know who she is?”

“I think the better question is, do you?”

He felt like he should, but to say so would be a lie. “Not really. But she acted like I had to.”

Merlin stayed quiet as he helped him into the kitchen where Arthur could collapse in one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. He went to the sink and wet a cloth to bring back and press to Arthur’s arm. The eyes that met Arthur’s were solemn. “This is going to be a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll think I’m mad.”

Arthur stared hard at him. “I just watched a woman throw fire at me from her fingertips and then disappear. I think I can handle whatever you can add to it.”

Merlin sighed. “Right. Well, just remember that when I’m done.”

* * *

The clock on the wall ticked over from nine o’clock to nine-oh-one. Gwen’s eyes immediately jumped to the ward doors in anticipation of visitors starting to arrive. The doctors had given her the go-ahead to leave if she wanted. All she needed was for Merlin and Arthur to arrive so she could actually go.

An elderly couple arrived for the even older woman across from Gwen. Two minutes later, a little boy came rushing in to make a beeline for the bed by the window. At five after, Gwen was still alone. And starting to worry about the fact that she’d never heard from Merlin after her middle of the night phone call.

She rubbed at the edge of the bandages covering the burn on her arm. If Morgana got to Arthur…her stomach roiled. It would be her fault all over again. 

Seven after the hour, Arthur appeared at the ward entrance. His hair was tousled, his eyes surprisingly somber, but when he glanced in her direction, the smile curving his luscious mouth was warm and welcoming, his pace unfaltering as he strode over to her bed.

“I hear you’ve been giving the nurses fits,” he said when he reached her side.

Her brows shot up for a moment until she realized he was teasing her. “Only because I’m wasting a bed by being here.” She looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Merlin?”

“At home.” His fingers trailed along the mattress, his head ducking in unexpected shyness. “I asked him to let me pick you up on my own.”

“Oh?” So Merlin had got to him in the night, and from the look of it, everyone had come through unscathed. Gwen was relieved, though that meant she would still have to watch what she said around Arthur. At least until she and Merlin figured out how best to approach the topic.

“I thought we could talk.”

She tamped down her momentary panic. “About what?”

“About…yesterday. What happened.” He paused. “Morgana.”

He remembered. He had to. Which meant he remembered about _her_.

“I don’t know what she wants.” Her voice remained calm. Somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“For what?”

“The bracelet. It was hers. If I hadn’t given it to you…” His hand shifted to graze along her forearm where the bandage met her skin. “The fact that I’ve caused you any pain at all kills me.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should’ve.”

“But I’m the one who released her from it. If there’s any blame to be had, it should be mine.”

He raised his eyes, then, but the censure that should have been there was missing. Instead, the blue burned in a way she’d never seen before, intent as only Arthur could be.

“Merlin told me everything he could remember,” he said. “So I know what you—what the other you went through. I know you remember that as well, but the last thing I want is for you to use that as an excuse to punish yourself now. I don’t care what happened before, or what Morgana says. We are not those people.”

“Arthur—”

“No, listen to me.” Perching on the edge of the bed, he braced his weight on his knuckles on the other side of her legs so he could lean forward, creating an air of intimacy she’d only dreamed about. “This past life stuff…two days ago, I would’ve said it was rubbish. Hell, last night I would’ve said it. But I can’t deny what I’ve seen with my own eyes, or what the two people in the world I trust most tell me is true. So maybe we did live before. And maybe you and I didn’t exactly get a happy ending then. So what? I loved you long before I knew any of that, and I’m going to love you now regardless of something that happened before we were even born. I want to look to the future, not the past. The future that includes you.”

She sat there, stunned into silence. Arthur surprised them every once in a while with his eloquence, but this outshone any rousing rhetoric he might have spouted to lift their spirits or spur their laughter. He loved her. He’d said it. Out loud. To her face. He knew about her and Lancelot, and refused to see it as a roadblock to their potential. All this time she’d been fighting her own feelings, and he’d been going through the same thing. The bracelet made more sense in that light. So did Merlin’s occasional comments and his assurances the night before that Arthur would understand.

He didn’t blame her for any of it. Which wasn’t exactly right since she was still partially at fault, but his determination to set it aside made a future between them possible.

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” she whispered.

“So don’t.” Tentatively, he balanced his weight so he could lift his hand and brush the hair away from her cheek. The slight brush of his fingertips flooded her with more heat than the bracelet ever had. “This destiny Merlin remembers, the one you probably remember, too…it might be what this is all about, why Morgana is back for whatever reason, but how we act, the choices we make, we do those because of who we are _now_. Because what’s the point of getting to come back if we don’t get to fix our mistakes? I don’t see it.”

“What about Morgana? She wants you dead.”

“I know.”

“She could use me to get to you again.”

“Or she could use Merlin, or my parents, or the newsagent on the corner by my flat,” he countered. “She’ll find a way in spite of what precautions I take, but I’m not going to let her dictate how I live my life. I refuse to give her that much power.”

He had a point, and now that he’d said so aloud, she realized she would have expected no less from him. “So what happens now?”

His mouth canted. “Now, I take you home.”

“Those portraits—”

“—are still there,” he finished. “But I didn’t say _your_ home.” 

Her breath caught, and her heart hammered against her ribs. “That’s awfully quick.”

“Really?” The half-smile blossomed into a full grin. “From my perspective, it’s been too long coming.”

His disconcerting reaction evoked a choked laugh. Confident, charming Arthur. Contrary to his beliefs, some things would never change.

“I only have one rule,” Arthur said.

“And what’s that?” She couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. All her dreams about kissing him—about more—just might stand a chance at becoming real now.

“No drawing on the walls. You feel the need to sketch, I’ll get you all the paper you could ever want.”

This time, her laughter was free and natural, more joyous than she’d felt in days. On impulse, she turned into his touch and kissed the heel of his hand. Before she could straighten, Arthur caught her head, held her still, and sealed his mouth over hers.

Nothing had changed, and yet, everything had. She remained terrified of what she’d done, but confident Arthur wouldn’t allow it to hold either of them back. Morgana was still out there—somewhere—but the element of surprise was now gone. 

The future was wide open. Waiting to be created.

By all of them.


End file.
